


propriety

by kidcomrade



Category: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken
Genre: F/M, have you ever met a man so scared of a blowjob, sain's disappointed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:22:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidcomrade/pseuds/kidcomrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kent has a few reservations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	propriety

The moment that she lowers herself to her knees before him, Kent utters a bizarre noise: some strange cross between a grunt of disapproval and an eloquent, inconspicuous clearing of the throat. (It's neither of those things, unfortunately. She's not fooled in the least.) Lyn shifts backward onto her haunches, and frowns, one quizzical eyebrow raised high.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, no," he mutters: the unspoken _There had better NOT be, Sir Kent of Caelin_ nearly deafens him, after all, and it's taking all his knightly valor and resolve to not falter under (above?) his lady's gaze. "This all just feels rather... improper, is all." 

"Improper," she repeats.

"Improper," Kent echoes. His hands clutch desperately at the chair's armrests, as if she's a moment from tugging him bodily off his seat.

"Kent," Lyn replies flatly, and crosses her arms in front of her chest. "If I were the _least_ bit concerned with being proper, would I be here at all?" 

It's the truth. The two of them have spat in the face of so many niceties that to be troubled with one more seems laughable in spite of his concern. He manages a dry, nearly humorless chuckle as his grip slackens a little. "Well. I suppose not."

"Then whatever is the matter?"

"I..." He presses his lips together, pondering. "That my lady would kneel so before her servant. Even as a--" (he briefly stops, good _gods_ is he honestly--!) "as a lover, it is as if I am slighting my liege, somehow. I cannot." 

And when Lyndis leans forward onto her knees (and his knees) again and _laughs_ , smile full and eyes squeezed tight in mirth, he sputters again. "Is that all?!" 

"M-milady, does it not--"

" _No,_ of course it doesn't!" Her grin is lazy, mischievous, even; she lifts a hand to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear, then turns her eyes upon him yet again. "Have you not considered that I personally chose to lower myself? You've hardly blackmailed me into this-- honestly, it'll be quite the opposite, if you keep up this ridiculous show of propriety." One of Lyn's hands traverses its way up his thigh, like she's illustrating her point. 

Dearest Saint Elimine in the heavens, his ears are certainly bright red by now.

"Now, I will not order you to do a thing. That would hardly be," she snorts, " _proper_ , given the situation. So I ask you this, not as your liege, not as Lady Lyndis, but as a woman: will you allow me to have you now, Kent?"

"I could never deny you that." And, as an afterthought, he adds-- "Lyndis."

"Lyn."

" _Lyn._ "

"Good."

And without another word, she begins unfastening his trousers.


End file.
